Truth or Dare
by bananashplito
Summary: Bad weather causes the Musketeers to be kept indoors for a few days. Aramis becomes an annoying two-year old when bored, and there is only one way to distract him! Athos feels picked on, Porthos is at his wits end and D'Artagnan is immature. The Result: angry Treville.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE MUSKETEERS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS**

"Absolutely not." Athos stated in a tone that implied end of conversation.

D'Artagnan gazed up at him innocently. "Why? Are you scared?"

Athos refused to be baited. "No, and nor am I 12." He stood and put on his hat.

Aramis draped his legs over the doorway from his spread-eagle position on the floor to prevent Athos leaving. " _Please_ Athos? I'm boooooooored!"

Porthos twisted in his chair by the fire with a grumpy grunt to glare at him. "As if we don't all know that by now."

"It's been raining for a whole _3 days_!" Aramis persisted regardless. "We have been stuck inside all this time because of the floods and the stupid mud. I've braided Porthos' beard, stuck D'Artagnan to a chair, hidden all of Treville's boots, mixed vinegar with your wine-"

"That was _you?!"_ Athos demanded, his sleepy moody demeanour vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Aramis audibly gulped. "…no."

Athos took a threatening step forward and grasped Aramis by his shirt. _"_ _It was D'Artagnan!"_ the caught musketeer squeaked.

"WHAT?!" D'Artagnan leapt up in protest. "I told you, at least 30 times, _not_ to."

Aramis shrunk smaller in Athos' grasp, who was now shaking him so hard his teeth rattled. "P-p-Porthos found it funny. He laughed! He's guilty by association!"

"Not as hard as I'll laugh when Athos throws you out that window." Porthos growled. "Nothing is more annoying than Aramis the Musketeer when bored. Like having a two-year-old."

Athos leaned forward menacingly. "A two-year-old who is about to be very sorry for what he has done unless he apologises im-"

"I'm extremely sorry!" Aramis gasped. He sighed with relief when he was dropped back to the floor. He remained still for a few minutes so as not to invoke Athos' ire. Then he started flicking flies and bits of mud at Porthos.

D'Artagnan perked up hopefully. "Now can we play Truth or Dare?"

"NO." Porthos and Athos growled in unison.

D'Artagnan sank back down in his chair. "Kill-joys…" he muttered moodily under his breath.

"Oh can't we?" Aramis chimed in. "There's nothing else to do."

Porthos and Athos said nothing.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeease?!" sang Aramis. "Pretty please?"

"With a cherry on top?" D'Artagnan added.

Porthos stood violently and backhanded a stool against the wall. " _FINE!_ If it'll shut you two idiots up then fine, let's just get on with it!"

D'Artagnan looked from the shattered stool back to Porthos and raised his eyebrows. "Someone's in a bit of a temper."

"It's _him_!" Porthos gestured wildly at Aramis, who smiled sweetly back. "He's been moaning and wailing and tormenting me for the last few days and _I. Have. Had. Enough!_ He's not the only one who hates being cooped up inside not doing anything, but he has to take it out on _me_."

Aramis rolled onto his back blissfully. "You're so funny when you're angry."

"That's it. I'm finding a new best friend. Maybe that goat called Maud outside the tavern. It makes a lot less noise."

"You mean the one that tries to eat whoever walks past it?" asked D'Artagnan disbelievingly.

"Still less troublesome than that toddler sprawled across the floor over there."

Aramis sat up again. "Will you stop whining if I just say sorry?"

 _"_ _Whining?"_ Porthos' left eye twitched. "Did you really just say _whining?_ " He advanced on Aramis, who curled up like a hedgehog whilst giggling manically.

D'Artagnan cheered from the side-lines.

"Can you all please just shut up? I am trying to sleep." Athos muttered grumpily from the far corner, where he was reclining against a wall with his hat over his eyes.

"What happened to Truth or Dare?" D'Artagnan dared to ask.

Athos sighed long-sufferingly. Then he got up and sat down next to Aramis. "Porthos, stop trying to strangle Aramis and sit down. The sooner we play this ridiculous game the sooner I can go to sleep."

D'Artagnan leapt over with glee and filled the gap in the circle. "Shall I start?" he asked excitedly.

"I want to s-" Aramis tried but Porthos kicked him.

"Athos! Truth or Dare?" D'Artagnan asked brightly as if there had been no interruption.

"…dare."

"Give Porthos a nice cuddle."

Porthos shrugged, clearly not bothered, but Athos looked positively alarmed. "I don't do physical contact." He murmured.

"Forfeit is take off all your clothes." replied D'Artagnan smugly.

Athos glared at him, then reluctantly gave Porthos an awkward hug.

"Porthos." His voice was resigned. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

Athos thought for a moment. "Are you in love with the girl from the Court of Miracles?"

Porthos hunched over and stared at his feet. After a while he mumbled "…yes." very softly under his breath.

 _"_ _What?!"_ yelped D'Artagnan, leaning forward. "Tell us absolutely _everythin-_ "

"D'Artagnan!" Aramis snapped warningly. He was suddenly wrapping Porthos in a warm embrace and stroking his back comfortingly. "It's okay, pal. She loves you too, I know it, even if she stays away."

Athos looked ashamed. "Forgive me. I should not have asked."

"S'okay." Porthos murmured, giving Aramis a grateful look. "I try to forget about it, that's all. Truth or Dare Aramis?"

Aramis chose truth too.

"What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you? That I don't already know about, of course."

Aramis considered. "Do you remember Josette?"

Porthos squinted as if peering backwards into his brain to search his memory. "Vaguely."

Well, her husband came home early one time and I couldn't fit out the window, so she dressed me as a woman and I spent the whole evening pretending to be her sister. Naturally, I had to stay over and at night he came to my room and tried to seduce me! Mortifying."

They all laughed heartily. "Well, you do sometimes wear perfume." D'Artagnan wheezed through chuckles.

Aramis sniffed disdainfully. "Women like that. Besides, even if I smell like one that doesn't mean I look like one! I refused to shave the beard and he still thought me a Madame. D'Artagnan, your turn."

"Dare!" D'Artagnan cried instantly.

Aramis grinned evilly. "Kiss Athos."

"No." Athos said.

D'Artagnan gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry Athos, but I'm not taking my clothes off." He pounced on the older musketeer, who literally screamed and wriggled frantically like a fish on a line. The younger was laughing so hard he soon lost his grip. Athos leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the doorway with wild eyes. Before he could reach it, Porthos tackled him from behind and he fell to the floor. Aramis sat firmly on his legs.

"Pucker up, Athos!" D'Artagnan giggled nervously, leaning over him.

"By the way, when I said kiss I meant snog." Aramis added hastily. He was flung to the left as Athos gave a savage kick upwards, but managed to maintain control.

D'Artagnan lowered his lips to Athos. Porthos and Aramis cheered enthusiastically. When D'Artagnan pulled away Athos remained limp and white faced on the floor.

"Is he dead?" Porthos grunted jokingly.

"You must be quite a kisser!" Aramis giggled. "Though not as good as me, of course." He muttered as an afterthought.

D'Artagnan looked down at his mentor with some concern. "Athos?"

"…I think I'm going to be sick." came the eventual mumbled reply.

D'Artagnan felt rather stung. "It wasn't that bad!"

It took a good few moments for Athos to recover enough to re-join the circle. When he did, he remained pale and subdued. D'Artagnan was feeling distinctly insulted and began to display signs of sulking.

"Truth or Dare, Porthos?" he muttered moodily.

"Dare."

"Slap Athos across the face as hard as you can."

Aramis gasped and Athos started. "Why is everyone picking on me?" he sighed morosely.

"I'm not going to do that D'Artagnan." Porthos stated firmly, looking the young musketeer firmly in the eye. "He is my friend and I won't hurt him. Choose something else."

D'Artagnan huffed. "Fine. Do your best impression of the Cardinal."

Porthos stood with grand dignity. He shook out his cloak and turned so it swished about his shoulders. Then he adopted a sharp stride and stalked down the room. "Those pesky musketeers…" he murmured, drawing in a rattling breath and slowly licking his lips.

Aramis blinked. "That's actually not bad." He admitted, sounding impressed.

"Thank you, thank you." Porthos bowed and returned to his spot on the floor. "Athos?"

"Do I have to?" was the response.

"Yes." Then he softened slightly. "I'll be fair."

"…truth." Athos muttered.

"Where is your favourite place in Paris?"

Aramis and D'Artagnan both snorted. "The tavern." They said at the same time.

"Of course." Athos replied with a hint of a smile. "Your turn Aramis."

"Hmm…" Aramis deliberated. "I'll go dare."

"Give Porthos a piggy-back."

Aramis swallowed. Porthos looked at him uneasily. "Do you think you can hold me?"

"Of course!" Aramis tried to sound as confident as he could.

"…okay then." Porthos didn't look entirely reassured, but prepared to leap onto his friend's back none the less. A dare was a dare, after all.

Aramis puffed in preparation. "One…two…three!" D'Artagnan covered his eyes as Porthos jumped.

The veins stood out on the sharp-shooter's forehead as he struggled to support the large musketeer. He staggered a few steps, legs trembled and breathing in sharp huffs. His face turned bright red with the effort. Then his strength left him and he lurched sideways towards the door. Porthos let out a squeak of terror as he felt himself slide. At the same time, the door opened and Captain Treville entered, soaked to the bone from the rain outside. There was just time for his eyes to widen a few millimetres in surprise at the sight before him. In the next second he was buried beneath the heavy bodies of two of his finest musketeers as they fell to the floor.

Athos was staring in sheer horror at the degrading position he had ultimately caused his Captain to occupy. In contrast, D'Artagnan's hand was slapped over his mouth and his shoulders were shaking. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled not to make a single sound.

"Ow." Murmured Porthos blurrily from the top of the pile. "I think I hit my head." He slowly opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on top of Treville instead of Aramis. He froze. "Please tell me I hit it really, really hard and this is a dream." He muttered dazedly to no one in particular.

"This is not a dream, Porthos. I only wish it were." Treville replied coldly. Porthos gulped.

Aramis was now stirring. "Porthos, get your foot out of my…oh. Hello, Captain!" he smiled charmingly.

"Get. Off. Me."

Porthos and Aramis scrambled hastily to their feet. D'Artagnan couldn't hold back any longer – he let out a loud shriek of laughter.

Treville got to his feet. He was angrier than any of them had ever seen him. A fire burned in his ice-grey eyes and a vein throbbed in his forehead. "I see no reason for laughter, Charles D'Artagnan."

The voice was flat, emotionless, and utterly terrifying. At the use of his first name, the youngest felt his merriment freeze in his throat. Athos appeared incapable of movement. He just sat mutely on the floor with every muscle in his body stiffened. Porthos gazed meekly at the floor, mentally preparing himself for death. Aramis tried to adopt his submissive puppy-dog position that so often got him out of trouble much lighter. Then he winced and reached up to ease a crick out of his neck, his apologetic expression transforming into a self-pitying grimace. That was the spark.

 **"** **I** ** _CANNOT_** **BELIEVE** I HAVE WITNESSED **_THIS_** BEHAVIOUR FROM THE VERY GUARDS WHO PROTECT **THE KING OF FRANCE HIMSELF**! INCOMPETENT, IMMATURE, BRAINLESS **_CHILDREN_** ARE THE BEST WE HAVE, IT SEEMS! _ARE THE RED GUARDS SKIPPING AND PLAYING HOPSCOTCH WITH THE CARDINAL, DO YOU THINK?_ **ATHOS** , I AM **ABSOLUTELY** ** _DISGUSTED_** AT YOU! ARE THE MEN YOU LEAD YOUR CHILDREN NOW? **D'ARTAGNAN** I HAVE HALF A MIND TO MAKE YOU KISS THAT PAULDRON GOODBYE **_RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND!_** YOU HAVE ABUSED **_MY TRUST_** **PORTHOS** AND DISGRACED ALL THAT THIS REGIMENT STANDS FOR! I TOOK A BIG RISK IN ALLOWING **_YOU_** **, ARAMIS,** TO ENTER OUR RANKS WHEN YOU _SO_ _ **REGULARLY**_ **FLAUNT** OUR VALUES AND THREATEN TO DISGRACE OUR GOOD NAME!" Spit was projecting everywhere from Treville's mouth and his face was an alarming shade of purple. He shook with rage. For a moment, his anger swallowed his breath and he could only gasp.

"Shall I fetch you a bag?" Athos whispered helpfully.

 **"** **I DO NOT WANT A BAG!** I WANT A GROUP OF MEN WITH MATURITY AND DIGINITY! AND WHAT DO I HAVE?! A DRUNKARD, A PUPPY, A MOUNTAIN AND A WOMANISER! **"** Treville collapsed, clutching his head due to a pulsing headache. "This is no hope for France." He murmured despairingly, voice hoarse. "Bring me some wine immediately, somebody, anybody."

Athos immediately went scuttling to his room to fetch it. Porthos had tears in his eyes, D'Artagnan was bristling at being referred to as a puppy, and Aramis felt deeply ashamed.

"Here, sir." Athos gave Treville a bottle of his best wine. Treville sighed and removed the cork with his teeth. He tilted his head back to take a big swig.

Aramis suddenly had a terrible realisation. Cold dread crashed through his body. "Captain wait-" he gasped frantically.

Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan remembered too and lunged forward to stop him, but it was too late.

 _"_ _Blleeuurgh!"_ Treville spat out the wine, his face contorted in disgust. He stared up at his men in bewilderment. "What the h-"

Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan stared at the ground and wordlessly pointed at their friend, whose knees were knocking. "I might have p-p-put v-vinegar in Athos' wine as a j-joke…"

 ** _"_** ** _ARAMIS!"_**

Aramis' courage failed him and he fled, Treville hot on his heels.

 **HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW, AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS OF WHAT I COULD DO NEXT. I'M THINKING MUSKETEER NEVER-HAVE-I-EVER… ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

"This is your fault." D'Artagnan muttered furiously under his breath to Aramis. The four had spent the last three hours shovelling horse manure from the entire length of the Garrison Stables. They were not even half way finished.

 _"_ _Excuse me?"_ cried Aramis in outrage, raising his pitchfork to smack the young one over the head with it.

"No talking!" snapped a voice. They all flinched and turned to gaze fearfully at Captain Treville, who was sat serenely on a hay-bale lovingly sharpening his sword. He had been there the entire time and showed no inclination of leaving. He seemed to enjoy watching them suffer.

Porthos and Athos both glared at their friends. Aramis guilty lowered his pitchfork. "May I remind you," he whispered discreetly to D'Artagnan, "that it was your idea to play that stupid game in the first place?"

"If you weren't being so annoying I would never have suggested it!" was the hissed response.

"Well, if you weren't being so boring I wouldn't have been annoying." Aramis retorted.

"Well if you didn't have such a short attention span then you wouldn't have been bored!"

"Well if you had kept me sufficiently entertained before then my attention would not have wandered!"

"Well…you're an idiot."

Aramis huffed. "Just because I'm a better kisser than you."

D'Artagnan flared up immediately and his voice rose. "That has absolutely nothing to do with anything!"

"So you admit it then?" Aramis grinned victoriously.

 _"_ _Never!"_

Porthos stepped forward. "If you two don't stop arguing right this second I'm going to-"

"PORTHOS DU VALLON." Treville's voice rang out like a shot. "I gave you an order. No talking."

"But-"

Treville slid his wetstone down his blade with an ominous screech. "No. Talking."

Porthos' shoulders slumped in dejection. He lowered his head meekly, eyes gleaming moist with tears, and silently resumed mucking out.

Athos couldn't help but step forward at such an injustice. "Permission to speak, sir."

Treville glared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed exasperatedly. "If you truly must please make it quick. Then all of you shut up and give me some peace."

"Porthos was asking D'Artagnan and Aramis to be silent for you, sir." The oldest musketeer reported.

Treville turned his burning gaze to the guilty offenders. "I see. And what did you two so urgently feel the need to talk about?"

They shuffled awkwardly and stared intently at the floor.

Athos supplied the information for them. "They were arguing about who is the better kisser, sir."

Treville stared at them in bewilderment. _"_ And _why_ were you discussing such a thing _?"_

"Because-" D'Artagnan burst in quickly, "Aramis keeps saying that I made Athos sick by kissing him!"

"Well you did." grunted Athos.

"You're just making that up!" whined D'Artagnan.

Treville tapped his sword on his blade. "And why," he paused for threatening effect, "were you and Athos kissing?"

"…I was assaulted." Athos muttered.

"Oh, come on!" D'Artagnan exploded. "It just wasn't that bad!"

"Just face it D'Artagnan." Aramis grinned. "You. Are. A. Bad. Kisser."

"Get over it already." added Porthos grumpily. He still stinging from having to take the blame.

Treville coughed awkwardly. "D'Artagnan. I feel it necessary to remind you that I like things to remain professional between my Musketeers. Whatever your…ahem… _attraction_ to Athos, please attempt to keep it from interfering with our work."

D'Artagnan stared at him for a few moments. Then he began to splutter, face bright red as he tried to form words through his choking outrage. All that came out was a squeak sounding vaguely like "Constance."

Aramis and Porthos were laughing so hard they could barely stand. Then Porthos slapped his friend on the back with a great roar of merriment. Aramis promptly fell face-first into a pile of hay. All that remained visible was the feather in the top of his hat.

Athos glared at his comrades, a crimson blush staining his cheeks. "It was a dare." He stated dryly.

"Ah." The Captain sighed wearily. However, though he would never let it show, he was secretly amused by their childish antics. As long as he wasn't involved, their bickering was vaguely endearing. "It seems this game was more damaging than I originally thought. Well, how do we settle the matter?"

Athos was quick with a response. "A duel between gentlemen, supervised by the strict code of honour." He declared in rehearsed tones.

Treville raised his eyebrows. "Seems a little drastic…" he ventured.

Athos looked a little put out. "Well what do you suggest?"

Aramis' head suddenly popped out the top of the hay. "I know! A NEW GAME!"

Porthos leapt on top of him to shut him up. Needless to say, Aramis was effectively buried once more.

"It was a game that got you into this situation in the first place." Treville reminded.

"Do you forgive us now Captain?" D'Artagnan tried his best puppy dog eyes. "We've been cleaning the stables for like, _forever_."

Treville said nothing.

Porthos looked up quickly, hope blooming. He stopped trying to suffocate Aramis and yanked him out by the collar. Then he hurled his friend at Treville's feet and gave him a meaningful glare.

"I apologise from the heart for my out of control behaviour…" Aramis murmured humbly to Treville's boots.

Athos bowed formerly to his Captain. "I too am ashamed of my contribution to our childish antics."

Porthos gazed heartfeltly into Treville's eyes. "Sorry, Captain." He murmured. "I am unworthy of the trust you put in me by accepting me into your regiment."

Treville suddenly felt a lump form in his throat. "Porthos," he tried, but his voice uncharacteristically broke. "I only said that in anger. Making you a musketeer was the best choice I ever made, and I have never regretted it. I hope you know that."

D'Artagnan looked like he was about to say "what about me?" so Athos kicked him viciously. Aramis was glowing with honest pride for his best friend.

Porthos stood biting his lip for a moment, trying to hold back tears. Then he embraced the Captain in a fierce hug. Treville, who had seemed to be on the verge of tears himself, now focused on breathing. "Porthos…" he gasped, "ribs…breaking…"

Porthos leapt back in horror. "Oh, I'm so sorry Captain!"

"That's all alright." winced Treville, though he was still smiling.

There was silence for a few moments.

"Sooo…" tried D'Artagnan hopefully after a few moments. "Are we good now?"

Treville considered. "I guess so." He muttered eventually.

"Excellent!" Aramis leapt to his feet and threw away the pitchfork. He turned to Athos. "Have I got hay in my hair?"

Athos observed him with considerable amusement. "You look like a scarecrow."

"WHAT?!" Aramis all-but screamed in horror. "My beautiful hair!" he ran to the door and yanked it open, intending to inspect the damage with the mirror in his rooms. He stopped short at the torrent of rain that gushed like a carpet from the sky. "This is a disaster!" he wailed, flopping to the floor in despair. "If I go out there it will get _wet_ too and become as curly as Porthos'!"

D'Artagnan snickered evilly from behind him. "No one will want to kiss you, then."

Athos rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Seriously," Porthos growled. "Just let it go."

Aramis puffed himself up. "Whatever happens to my hair, it will _always_ look better than yours! So drab and limp and lacking in…pizazz."

"Well, I'm taller than you!" declared D'Artagnan proudly.

"And I actually have facial hair."

That struck a blow. "Just wait until you're asleep…" D'Artagnan promised, eyes gleaming with intent.

Aramis' hand went to his lip in horror. "Are you threatening my moustache?"

"So what if I am?"

"I'll kill you slowly and painfully."

"I'd like to see you try."

The two musketeers began to face off against each other. Aramis crouched as if about to launch himself at D'Artagnan. Athos and Porthos circled them, preparing to judge the winner.

"Shall we play a game?" Treville burst out frantically.

Everyone froze and turned to stare at him. He felt himself redden. "That is," he coughed, "Something other than having a fistfight in which someone could be needlessly injured and have to take time off from guarding the King of France."

Still silence. Then D'Artagnan asked "what kind of game?"

"Will you play?" Porthos asked in practically the same instant.

Treville suddenly felt like a father with four irresponsible immature young boys. The thought made him uncomfortable. "No, I think not."

"Oh pleeeeaaasseee?" cried Aramis. "You never have any fun with us."

Even Athos was looking wonderingly at Treville now. He sighed and scrubbed his face over his hand. "Oh, very well."

D'Artagnan and Aramis cheered loudly and hugged each other, dancing round in circles. Athos and Porthos stared at him in amazement.

"Well, what are we playing then?" he asked gruffly. He couldn't believe he was becoming as childish as them, but Aramis was right. It had been so long since he'd enjoyed himself. Besides, no one could make _him_ muck out the stables if it got out of hand.

"Spin the bottle?" Aramis suggested mischievously.

"God, no!" Athos shuddered. D'Artagnan said nothing. Porthos patted him proudly on the back.

Treville felt the need to set a few rules. "I refuse to play a game that involves me discovering too much about your personal lives. Or you mine for that matter."

D'Artagnan's shoulders drooped. "I guess that's no never-have-I-ever then…"

"You have permission to play that when I am 50 miles from your vicinity."

Porthos suddenly lit up with an idea. "How about would-you-rather?" Aramis made an enthusiastic noise. Treville looked at Athos, unsure. Athos shrugged as if to say _how bad could it be?_

"Fine." The Captain replied firmly. "Though remember – nothing inappropriate."

Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan grinned at each other wickedly.

"Athos, you start." Treville commanded, choosing to ignore those looks.

Athos made sure to sit down on his own private hay bale which could be defended from intruders if necessary. "Porthos, would you rather...only drink or only eat for the rest of your life?"

"That's hard!" complained Porthos. Whilst he was considering, his stomach rumbled loudly. "I guess that's a sign. I'll only eat."

Athos stared at him in surprise. "But…wine." His voice trailed away into puzzled bewilderment.

Porthos rolled his eyes. "Pie, Athos. _Pie_. Captain, would you rather spend 1 month with the Cardinal or 1 month with the King?"

"Totally alone?"

Porthos nodded. Treville looked round seriously at them all. "I want your word that all of what is said here will never go any further."

They gave it without hesitation.

"Well," Treville continued. "the King is a petulant child, and it seems I have four of those to deal with already. Besides, I cannot deny that thwarting the Cardinal's plans is extremely entertaining."

"Treason from his own mouth!" declared Aramis dramatically. They all laughed.

"D'Artagnan," Treville pondered, "Would you rather be a good kisser or a good swordsman?"

Porthos and Aramis looked at each other surreptitiously and tried not to grin.

"He means an actual sword, you idiots." Athos rolled his eyes.

"Of course." Porthos replied meekly, though as soon as Athos looked away he waggled his eyebrows at D'Artagnan.

"I suppose," D'Artagnan responded reluctantly, "a better swordsman, because I can make a living from it. Athos...would you rather kiss me or Aramis?"

Treville cleared his throat warningly.

"What?" the young musketeer smiled innocently.

Athos looked positively alarmed, as though a trap had just sprung shut around him. A heavy flush spread up the back of his neck. "Aramis." He muttered under his breath with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Why?!" D'Artagnan asked, heartbroken.

Athos said nothing. Aramis patted his back comfortingly. "Because we've already kissed, and I was better than you." The sharp-shooter responded smugly.

"WHAT?!" roared Porthos. He looked scandalised. Treville had buried his face in his hands and was murmuring something about unprofessionalism. D'Artagnan's mouth was wide open in shock.

"When were you going to tell me this?" Porthos continued, seeming genuinely hurt.

Aramis chuckled. "Relax, everyone. It was just an accident. I fell on top of Athos when we were training and accidently kissed him. An honest mistake."

Porthos glared suspiciously between Athos and Aramis for a while. Then he grunted. "We might just as well play kiss-marry-kill at this rate."

Treville and Athos shook their heads no whilst D'Artagnan and Aramis frantically shook their heads yes.

"Three against one!" shrieked D'Artagnan excitedly.

"Aramis," Porthos pondered, "kiss-marry-kill…me, the King, and the Queen."

Aramis considered. "I think 'll kill the King. Purely theoretically of course, Captain!" he shot a reassuring smile at Treville, who looked like he was regretting joining in their games. "And if I say I want to marry the Queen then Athos will strangle me here and now, so I'd better marry Porthos. You're a better cook anyway." He patted his best friend on the back. "Captain, kiss marry kill: Athos, Constance and D'Artagnan."

Treville looked exceedingly awkward. "I don't really want anything to do with any of them…"

"…well that's quite rude." Athos remarked.

"Yeah," added D'Artagnan with a smirk. "I thought we had something special!"

Porthos sniggered.

"If I was in there would you marry me?" Aramis asked.

"You'd be dead without a moment's hesitation." Treville snapped.

Aramis' head drooped sadly. "Oh."

"What about me?" Porthos queried.

Treville buried his head in his hands. "You are not part of the question Porthos."

"But if I was?"

"…then I'd marry you."

"I love you too Captain."

"Shut up."

D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "What about us though?"

Treville sighed long-sufferingly. "I'd marry Constance because she doesn't have any annoying habits, as far as I'm aware."

"I don't have annoying habits!" gasped D'Artagnan in outrage.

"Singing, whistling, clicking your fingers, tapping your feet, losing everything you touch, jumping in puddles, eating with your mouth open, twirling your hair, setting fire to things, prodding, general whining, going on and on and on about Constance…shall I continue?"

D'Artagnan glared at him. "That won't be necessary, thank you."

"Oh, and that annoying eyebrow thing you always do." Treville added as an afterthought.

Porthos frowned. "What are Athos' annoying habits?"

"A shorter list I admit." Treville smiled dryly. "Drunkenness and moping. So I guess that means I'll kiss Athos-"

"-please don't." Athos quickly interjected.

"And kill D'Artagnan."

Aramis scooted over to the younger musketeer as he wailed "why does everyone hate me?" and wrapped him in a warm hug.

"Constance doesn't." he reminded him.

D'Artagnan sniffled. "So the rest of you do?"

There was a brief silence before everyone cried "of course not!" in unison. D'Artagnan gave a watery smile as they all did their best to cheer him up with compliments.

"But am I really a bad kisser?" he asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Aramis struggled with himself internally for a moment. Then he plastered a rather ghastly smile on his face and forced out the word "no." He instantly regretted it.

 _"_ _I knew it!"_ D'Artagnan whooped. He leapt up and danced cheeringly around the stables, stopping to pick up Treville and spin him around joyfully. "I'm a better kisser than you Aramis! You said so and you can't take it back!"

Aramis crossed his arms. "Actually, I said aren't a _bad_ kisser. Not that you are better than me."

"It's too late Aramis! _You admitted it_!"

"I did no such thing."

"Well, I am better than you."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No. You're really not."

"I really, really am."

"No-"

Porthos, Athos and Treville stood and ran out through the door into the rain.

 **Hi folks! Hoped you liked it (I'm not too sure about it myself…) and please leave a review, nice or nasty :)**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE MUSKETEERS OR ITS CHARACTERS, AND I AM NOT MAKING ANY MONEY FROM THIS.**


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